Of Fathers and Sons
by DreamingRomantic8
Summary: "I killed my father." He breathes the words into her mouth and her hands rise to caress his cheeks. Their eyes meet and she can see in his eyes that he needs her to say something. (Or a slightly-AU and OOC Captain Swan with Brennan Jones, will probably be 2 chapters). Thank you all for your support, hope you enjoy it!


It had been a lazy day, but a perfect day. Henry was on a camping trip with Robin, Roland, and Regina while Emma and Killian spent the week alone. It was much needed for the two of them. Of course, they love Henry and now that they have a house – _their_ house – nothing is better than spending the day with their family, floating from the house to the shore and back. But this weekend it had been different. Instead of sailing lessons and splashing in the beach, it had been soft kisses into sun-bleached hair and hugs from behind as Emma stared out into the sea.

Killian had said once that it comforted him – the waves. It was part of the reason that they had added a balcony to their bedroom. Now, instead of walking out of the house at night when he couldn't sleep, Killian could simply step out onto the balcony where he could keep watch over both his loves. It was here that Emma found him tonight. They had watched the sun set together earlier in the day – it was a beautiful array of stunning pinks and iridescent oranges. They had been standing in what Henry had dubbed "their pose" – Emma standing in front of Killian with his arms curving around from behind her and their hands tangling together over Emma's stomach. Picturesque, they had been told ( _comfortable_ ,is the word Emma would rather use). They were both the right height that Killian could stand behind her and place his chin on her head. It was the same when she turned around – she was just tall enough to be able to put her head in the crook of his neck. She loved it there, and if it wasn't for the fact that she couldn't see his eyes and the rest of his ( _gorgeous_ ) face from there, she would never move. And while Emma may not have been able to see Killian when he was standing in front of her, he could see all of her, and he never let her forget it.

"Beautiful" he murmured as they watched sun set earlier that night. Emma hummed in his arms, snuggling deeper in his embrace.

"It's the best sunset I've seen in a while." She agreed, twisting her body and moving one hand to caress the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I wasn't talking about the sunset." He said, leaning down to kiss her. It was sweet and _totally_ cliché, but it still made her heart soar and ignited the fire in her gut that always seemed to be present when he was.

Hours after the sun had set, the stars had come out and glittered across the sky. It was one of the things Emma loved most about living in Maine – there were always stars in the sky. In Boston, she had always looked up but could only see a few. It was fitting that now that she had her happy ending, she got the stars in the sky, too. But no matter how beautiful the night was, there was no denying that her true love had been slightly "off" today. When she found him, he was deep in his thoughts. Emma could see them swarming around in his head. It was like she could hear him thinking, and she didn't need to ask him what was wrong to know that he was too far deep inside his mind. She knew because as much as she was an open book to him, he was the same to her. Or, at least a book she had learned how to read.

Whenever Emma was lost in her thoughts, Killian would wrap her in his arms and kiss her forehead. It was simple and sweet, but it never failed to remind her of the man who kept her grounded. It may not have always brought her out of her thoughts, but it did remind her that she wasn't alone, and sometimes that's all she needed.

Now, Emma walked across their room and out onto the balcony, her sock-covered feet padding across the wood. Normally, Killian would've noticed her by now, but he was consumed by his thoughts – his legs up on the table, his arms resting on the chair, nursing a cup of tea – not Rum, but tea. Emma frowned, but wasn't offended that he didn't acknowledge her. If anything it made her more anxious to have him in her arms, just to make sure that he was okay. Just to make sure that he knew he wasn't alone.

She came around from behind him, sitting in his lap. His arms automatically came around her to rest at her hip, his fingers grazing over the bare skin at her hip under her fleece (Maine is no Florida, after all). Her hands were playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, and they slowly moved up to caress his cheeks. He looked up at her then, and her breath caught in her chest when his eyes met hers. Sure, they both carried pain – and usually it was a pain that they could share, but Emma hadn't seen pain in his eyes like this for a while. He tried to speak, but his eyes filled with tears.

"I – " he began, his head shaking, unsure of what to say. How could he communicate the pain he was feeling? How could he tell her that he couldn't breathe today, that even after reaching his happy ending, he still had days where he couldn't think of anything else. He couldn't get his mind off of the pain inside his head. It wasn't always like this, and the nights were almost definitely worse than the daylight hours. How could he share his pain with her when he didn't want her to feel pain? He wished he could go back in time and protect her from ever having to know what pain is. But, he loves her just the way she is, and part of that comes from her strength. She is so strong, his Swan, she is his rock whenever he needs her, including tonight.

She can see it in his eyes, the aching. She can see it swallowing him whole and she knows he's stepping into dangerous territory – a land with only his thoughts to keep him company without an anchor to pull him back to shore. She wants to ask him what's wrong, wants to know what she can do. She knows he won't answer, so she waits it out, like she always does. She knows today is not a specific anniversary or date, so that means that something must have happened to him while he was out earlier. She kisses him then, attempting to provide some sort of comfort.

He's not trying to hold back from her, but he also still isn't used to completely vocalizing and sharing all his feelings with someone else. He was on his own for so long (and it felt like even longer in the Underworld), and while he may be more articulate than his better half, he still struggles with putting feelings into words. Instead, he looks for a sign, something to tell her. She's smart, and he knows she'll be able to figure it out. He finds it in her ring, his thumb gently caressing it, twisting it on her finger. He remembers the day he gave it to her first, to keep Emma alive when she was the dark one, and how after their whole ordeal with the Underworld was over, he gave it to her again, but this time sliding it onto her finger on one knee instead of handing it to her on a chain. It's still quite new to both of them, but he likes seeing it there. He likes seeing it on her, where it belongs.

He remembers where it came from, too. Memories of a brother, a hero, a life lost too soon. Emma can relate to this in a way that others can't, and for that he is appreciative. He knows that he doesn't always have to explain his thought process to her, but it helps that he doesn't have to say anything at all when it comes to their lost souls. She likes to remind him that they aren't lost anymore, and she does that now too, twining their hands together so that she can kiss the space behind his ring.

He had protested at first, saying that he didn't really need a ring ( _"Everyone already knows I'm yours, Love, why procure another ring to show it?"_ ), but he's glad he eventually gave in. It brings him comfort when she's not there and when he forgets that he's as much hers as she is his. Or even when she is with him, the round band has grounded him many times when his mind was taking a trip through the realms – except for today. Today was different, but he wasn't sure why. She kisses him again, softly pulling him out of his reverie. He sighs, their foreheads pressing together as their noses gently bump back and forth.

"I killed my father." He breathes the words into her mouth and her hands rise to caress his cheeks. Their eyes meet and she can see in his eyes that he needs her to say something.

"I know." She says just as softly, moving her thumbs back and forth over his cheek bones.

"I'm terrible." He says, his voice breaking and his head falling.

"You're not." She insists, moving his face up so that their eyes are level. "Killian, you're human."

"Right, because humans kill their fathers." He snaps at her, and even though she knows it's not really Killian speaking, she can't help the pang of pain that settles in her gut.

"Killian, look at me." His head slumps again. "Killian," she says a little louder this time, and he drags his eyes up to meet hers. She sighs, wishing she could use her magic to ensure that he never felt this way again, but that's not how it works, so she settles for taking a deep breath and caressing his cheek as she slowly begins to comfort him. "Killian Jones, you, my love, are not a monster." His eyes begin to well up with tears and even after all this time he is so surprised that she knows _exactly_ what his mind says to him. "You're kind, generous, and brave. You amaze me every day with your tenacity for life, and I know there is not a single soul in all the realms that I'd rather share my heart with." She whispered to him, her hand falling over his heart. "I love you, Mr. Jones." His voice is quiet then, and still slightly broken, but he breathes out his response, his forehead coming to rest on hers.

"I love you, too, Mrs. Jones." There's no sarcasm planted in there, no defense mechanism, just a man telling his wife that he loves her. They stay like that for a while, reveling in the simple presence of one another. They had been through quite the ordeal, what with going to the Underworld and coming back, but they were together, and that's all that mattered.

"Killian," Emma begins, her voice soft and her words slow and measured but determined, "what happened today?" Sure, they both have moments where they're stuck in their minds, but it's not usually to this extent. His mouth opens and closes a few times as he searches for the words.

"My…um, my Father approached me this morning." Emma's hand stills on his face, her whole body tensing. They hadn't run into the man since their return to Storybrooke, and there was a part of Emma that secretly wished that they never would. She hates what he did to Killian and Liam, and it hurts her even more to think about all the years that Killian had to bear that weight on his own for so long. She knows how it affects him and she wishes that there was something she could to do take his pain away. Killian and Emma had briefly talked about what happened before she arrived in the Underworld, but he still hadn't divulged the length of his interaction with his Father, and she didn't want to push him. Killian swallowed harshly, and Emma finds herself doing the same before resuming her gentle swipe over his cheekbones, leaning down to kiss away the furrow on his brow. Her lips move down, kissing a path down his nose and then to both of his cheeks and his chin landing finally on his lips.

"You can tell me anything," she whispers, their noses bumping together, "I'm not going anywhere." His grip on her tightens then, and he takes a deep breath.

"He said he wanted to talk, and that he was on his way to our home to look for me." Emma freezes in shock, pulling back slightly to take in her husband's face. "He said he had seen us around town and wanted to take a moment to explain himself…to explain what he was thinking when he left." Emma can feel her brows furrowing, and she calms a little when Killian's fingers come up to smooth the area, but she still can't push down her anger towards the man. The action makes her feel a little better, but this isn't about her. It's about the man in front of her – the man she loves, wholly and unequivocally – and how he's hurting, and he's letting her in.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She whispers, wrapping her arms around his neck. She can feel his heartbeat increasing against her own chest, his breathing harsher as he works on keeping his tears in as his throat begins to close up. "I'm not going anywhere, Killian," she reiterates, needing him to know that she won't leave him, that she will be here for him. "It's okay to be hurt, it's okay to cry if you need to." She realizes that crying isn't a luxury he's really ever let himself revel in, and she knows because she did the same thing. For so long they were by themselves and it was so much easier to just push everything down and not have to deal with their emotions, but now they can. She pulls him into her as tightly as she can, attempting to offer some sort of physical comfort in the twisted position they've found themselves in on the deck chair. He buries his head in the hollow of her neck and she can feel his panting breaths on her collarbone. She can't help the shiver that passes through her, and in an instant, he's up and insisting that he carries her back into their room. Always the gentleman, her pirate, even when his heart is broken on the floor. A few minutes later, they're both warm under the blankets, the light from the fire mingling with the moonlight, illuminating their room ever so slightly. They're both lying down, his head over her heart, her hands tangled in his hair, comforting him as she waits for him to begin speaking.

"I didn't say anything at first." His voice is a soft mumble and she feels his arms tighten around her. "I didn't even know if I wanted to be there…but then he asked if I would like to have this discussion here, in our home." He sucks in a breath and suddenly Emma can see where this conversation went; Killian is fiercely protective of his family, especially given recent circumstances. "I'm afraid I lost my temper there, Swan." His humor is back, but she can see straight through his defense mechanism. "Had to give him a taste of the bloody pirate he helped create." She pulls on his hair, forcing their eyes to meet. His are still clouded, filled with pain and sorrow. He doesn't break their eye contact, but he allows his walls to fall again, his voice softly floating up to her ears. "I couldn't let him come here, Emma. I couldn't let him come into our home. I've – _we've_ – worked so bloody hard for this and I won't have him break it again." His voice is breaking, and her heart breaks even more for him. She loves him, and she _hates_ that he's ever had to feel this way.

"What did he say?" She's doesn't want to push him, but she knows that there's more than that. Yes, he is fiercely protective of their family and the home they've created, but the reaction now isn't just "protective Killian", it's something more. His eyes retreat back down again, and she can see him re-living that moment. She knows the exact moment the words are spoken in his mind, tears spilling from his eyes. His eyes rise up again to meet hers, and before he even speaks, there are tears falling from her eyes, too.

"He said he thought about it – leaving us – often, so I asked if he'd do it again, and…" His voice trails off, his hand desperately searching for hers, needing to touch her to ensure himself that she was still there. She brought his hand up to her mouth, kissing the space behind his ring again, letting her lips linger as her thumb began to caress the ring, gently encouraging him to continue. "He said that in the beginning, he wasn't sure and that it wasn't until he became a father that he realized that he wouldn't." Her thumb abruptly stopped the movement, her head jerking up to meet his eyes, anger flashing through her eyes. His tears were falling at a steady pace, but his voice was filled with anger. "Aye, he's been a father for bloody centuries, but apparently only the last one has counted." Aghast, Emma's mouth opens and closes a few times as she tries to wrap her head around that stupid statement. How dare he say that to Killian? The urge to bolt out of bed and pummel Brennan Jones to the ground is strong – almost _too_ strong, because no one hurts the people she loves and gets away with it – but the urge to console, and protect, and _love_ her man is greater.

"Oh, Killian." Is the only thing that comes out of her mouth. What else could she say to console him? "Come here," she says, pulling him up so that their faces are level, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her tightly to his body. Her lips move over his as she attempts to comfort him in some way. He responds back feverishly, needing to feel something – _anything_ – and their kisses are tinged with salt from their tears. She can imagine what he's feeling, because she knows the pain of parents leaving you - for a long time she felt like that was the only thing she knew. But in this moment, it wasn't her past she was confronting. Emma had already done that – she'd confronted her past feelings about being abandoned by her parents, and while it wasn't completely solved, she was working on it. Killian, on the other hand, hadn't worked on his issues at all; not like he was being forced to do now, anyways.

In the end, she isn't surprised that her pirate ends up crying into her neck – she can't say that it's a side she's really seen of him before, but he's human, too. And he's always been so strong – her guiding light, always. She be the same for him, and even if he decides that he doesn't want to talk about it in the morning, the time will come, and when it does, she will be here.


End file.
